Best Murray Poems
Written by Gail DeBole on May 18, 2009
There once was a fella named Murray
Who lived his life in a flurry.
When the grim reaper stopped by
Murry refused to die
Saying, "I have a
Meeting at 10:30."
Note: Illustrated in Coloring within the Limericks available on Amazon.com and other retail websites.
By the Murray
is far from
By the lake
The Murray
has its own sound
as it meanders
across gravel runs
billabongs
bends galore
tonight will be cold
so the fire is prepped
7 sheets of crumpled
newspaper, splinters of pine
dry eucalyptus leaves
twigs and small branched
neatly piled
the cod are rising
at dusk
gently taking insects
from the surface
By the lake
would be
no sound
at all
Dusk On the Murray River
A crimson red blanket hangs over the river, shrouding its steep muddy banks.
This is dusk on the Murray River, the Mississippi of this great land.
Fifteen hundred miles of slow-flowing water linking state to state and ocean to mountain.
What secrets do your Cod and Trout hide as they navigate your murky waters?
Night arrives quickly here in Echuca.
Dusk is brief at this place which means meeting of the waters.
Overhead Sulphur Crested Cockatoos gather in their masses, screeching their way into my thoughts as they swoop around me.
Darkness falls
I want to stay out as late as possible, delaying my return to a budget hotel with a kicked-in door.
My room in the Caledonian hotel is one of the worst places I have ever laid my head.
The grubby stained carpet is as brown as the river.
Unease comes over me as I try to settle on a lumpy bed.
Sleep will not come
I feel unsafe looking at the kicked-in door.
The sound of the birds fills my head.
I have a new pet guinea pig
He's cute and brown and furry.
I winked at him, he squeaked at me,
I think I'll call him Murray.
He likes to sit upon my legs
While I stroke his head.
We played a game of hide and seek
Under the covers of my bed.
He likes to run around my room,
I have to shut the door.
And then I have to pick up poop
That he leaves all over the floor.
I feed him carrots and apples
And pellets from the store.
And whenever I give him a special treat
He squeals and squeals for more.
We play out in my sandbox,
My guinea pig and me.
I give him dandelions and grass to eat
Under the shade of the old oak tree.
When I'm feeling lonely
Or when I'm feeling blah,
I just go and talk to Murray
And pet his furry paw.
The dust of the deserts,
the dry air, the dry heat
a dust storm approaches
as we run like cockroaches.
The scene is golden
no green in sight,
some might call this a delight.
our farmers in a drought,
but they work, no less,
without a plenty of food
YES, we stress.
We sit on the couch
to have a beer,
turn on the news,
there's plenty to hear.
The Murray River
big and brown
surrounded by gumtrees
like a crown.
We camp
we fish
we ski,
there is always plenty to see.
We awake to a sunrise
t begin a new day
the decision is yours,
where would you like to be?
Heaven’s light shines brighter today
And its gates are opened extra wide
They’re preparing for another angel
To be seated by God’s side.
The trumpets blow louder
And the angel’s voices ring higher
Our hearts grow ever heavier as
Your final day with us grows nigher.
Over the years we’ve watched
As you’ve done the Lord’s work
It’ll be hard to let you go
As you ascend to Heaven from earth.
We all have our memories to share
Of you no matter where we are
Ones I remember most are the diner,
Your hats and of your cigars.
Heaven has prepared a place for you
Your job is finally done
You’ve secured the ultimate victory
Your race has been won.
We’ll share your pictures and stories
With the little ones as they come up
To give them a piece of our history
As life without you adjusts.
Heaven’s light shines brighter today
And has increased in its wealth
When God told his angels
“I’ve got this one”,
And took your hand Himself.
We’ll all miss you dearly.
Knowing this isn’t truly the end
We’ll get to see you our beloved
Uncle, Dad, brother and grandfather
One day again.
Rest easy now.
4/25/19
Estella Murray
1891-1912
Johnny’s was the last face
I saw that April afternoon in 1912.
I admit I was mean to him,
As mean as a starving she-dog in heat.
It’s not that I did not appreciate
The blooming rosebud he presented to me
Six months before my untimely demise.
But that thorn hidden beneath it,
Could it not have been removed beforehand?
It’s not that I did not appreciate
The long-winded love letter he delivered to me
Three months before my untimely demise.
But that last line written so sloppily, – “I love thee!”-
Could it not have been rewritten neater
And the word “thee” replaced with the word “you?”
It’s not that I did not appreciate
The inert standing vigil he kept for me
Three days before my untimely demise.
But what was that fool doing out there?
Just standing in the garden out front-
Outside my open-curtained window?
Could he not at least have stepped to my front door
There on Friends Street
And cried real tears for my departing soul?
But no! That fool, Johnny Barrow,
Instead stood out there flirting with his new girl-
Insipid April and her moody mornings and afternoons-
Standing and staring straight ahead
Like some stupid stone cold statue!
“Oh happy dagger!” the young Juliet once intoned.
“Oh happy death!” I said at last,
There on my mother’s divan,
Forgetting once and for all,
That staring unmoving fool, Johnny Barrow!
I know how a woman can genuinely love
I have known a woman's love
And none compared to love you gave
For all your life you gave him everything
And as you gave there was nothing more
For there was only one you to give.
How beautiful you laughed then,
And I ws happier to call you friend.
And all your life you waited for him
To give but a fraction frail of what you gave
And you said it all to me
And I seeing all for myself told him,
But he was too popular to believe, and then
After he died. We were left suddenly alone
I wished I could atone for him
But you in silence endured loneliness well
For no one in the crowd knew your heart
The way you endured the disease of body
With stoic grace alone you fell apart
You carried the lethal child with Christian dignity
You were so young then but long to go. Now it is I
Left alone to ponder, why did I not find
Love like that in my preference for the polished kind?
The love of pleasure is our first blind;
You kept truth hidden in the agony of your mind.
The word I hate, the most detested of all,
makes me so angry by blood starts to boil.
A word chosen for recognition alone,
the making of a slave to keep me at home. .
It reminds of a time when life was full of fear,
too small to defend myself, nobody cared.
To hear this word meant only one thing,
times ticked down for another hiding.
A trapped little child with nowhere to run,
hardly ever allowed to have any real fun.
This word made me want to never be the same,
a frightened little child scared of my own name.
Beneath the mist
current moves fish, ducks
the future ticks, taking them
whatever, to who knows where
but we are from beyond all that
beneath the mist
the originals swim, drown
not their sorrows, but die
bridge builders watch ducks
paddle upstream
joke about sperm
psychological
whales?
not up this far
beneath the mist
every morning I wake at the same time
but this time of year every morning is earlier
so I wake further up river all the time
beneath the mist I am up so early now
that I see myself pass by
the fish, ducks, the river of life
all flow before me - in an instant
beneath the mist
of the mighty Murray.
Remember the 7th of July
2013 is the year
the hero of Scotland
was in his top gear
Tennis is his ace game
Wimbledon was his target
the final test was at hand
Novak Djokovic was all set
But Mr Murray raised his game
overcoming all that came his way
his opponent fought very hard
but Andy boy won the day
Now Scotland have a king
what a racket he does bring
in our eyes we have a gleam
arise Andy Murray supreme
poetgord@2013
Win ‘The Trip’ Murray
Some wish the life of stewardess; Win Murray was the ‘trip,’
more than a plane or ship at sea, with stops not on a map,
a riptide ocean surf conceals ’til shore’s long past earth’s curve.
More than great food a hostess serves, Win’s dish a friend takes home,
fond memories, if substance lost, as guests retire from Grace.
Gil, too, was no one’s afterthought; they lived life shore to shore!
Both were a sweetness one could breathe, a rain that comes before
day’s waste gets washed away! Tomorrow’s scent anointed place
where they held court. Gil stroked to silence (1) let his mind still roam,
a joke that he might fear the night (his eyes shine lack of nerve),
the two knew Grace through thick and thin, love’s brief no handicap.
They favored tides that ferried them! Red sunsets greet their ship! (2)
Brian Johnston
1st of February in 2021
Poet’s Notes:
This memorial poem celebrates the lives of both Win and Gill Murry, now departed. Additional best wishes during this time of loss to Scott, Craig, and Vicki Virnig, the three Murray children, from my former wife, Kimberly Adaire Ward, a friend to the family in Los Altos Hills, CA, long before I had the pleasure.
(1) About a year before Gil died, he suffered a stroke that completely paralyzed him. I went to visit him several times in the months that followed, and though some thought he’d left us, I felt that not so, that he more than knew I was there and looked forward to my visits. I would tell him stories from my life, shared jokes I enjoyed, and always believed I saw joy in Gil’s eyes. And he did recover, could move and speak again for several months before a final stroke ended his life.
(2) This is a reference to the first scientifically accurate poem (based on observations) that I remember encountering early in life (of pre-biblical authorship?). It intrigued me as a child and inspires me still to integrate the Science that delights me in many of the poems I write. Hear Christ’s Word, as poetry! (Matthew 16:2-3)
A red sky’s glow at night hints of sailors’ delight,
but one seen in the morning says, “Sailors! Take Warning!”
Charles Murray 'THE WHISTLE'
===/-\
(©)
there are days when fresh air and calgon just can't take you away
there are times when you just have to take it all like a grown up
there are days when you wanna be big ole baby and just clench yourself to the covers
there are instances when you wanna use the alarm as your punching bag
in a dream, the last day of your last day has come to fruition
in a dream, the new beginning that you have prayed for endlessly is now a reality
in a dream, the lottery has rung the doorbell of your life and set you free
in a dream, you finally get that class A and plan your road trip out
then you wake up, and the same scenery drives you crazy again
then you wake up, and you remember that you need to ride to work starting today
then you wake up, and little riley has ballet class and little joseph is in a play
then you wake up, and you remember to give God Thanks and Praise for another day of life to do it all
Shock waved over from a puddle to form an ocean as Jake stood taking splash after splash
of emotions that rolled him not to understand on how he should react to this rude from her
remark yet pleasant from the feel of her hands on his shoulders position.
What?
He finally said without movement, still in a slouch to keep her hands where they were for
she was small in comparison to him and wanted the warmth to linger.
Ya man!
I never seen a stuttering stanley before!
Like I mean I saw it in the six sense, but that's a movie
I never seen someone actually have that speech impediment before!
Every once and while you hear people with lisps, but who cares about that!
She's crazy...
She has to be, it's like going up a to burned victim and saying O MAN COOL SCARS!
...wait now I'm comparing myself to a burn victim that's horrible...
gosh I'm full of self pity!
Jake still stood slouched still listening to this rambling, odd, no care in the world hair
covering one eye girl. This converse wearing, RIOT displaying, purple eyeshadow blaring,
rare type of girl. And he felt her fingers shift yet stay on his shoulders as she kept on
going with her interest of stutters, at least he thinks she kept going in the same
subject, cause he was
too surrounded by the feel of her hands, engulfed by the movement of her glossed lips,
hypnotized by the shifting of her small hips, and enthralled by the slight bouncing of her
soft perky-
Hey!
So what do you say?
(SNAP welcome back to the real world Jake)
What?
I said my friend bailed on me and we where supposed to watch a movie together
but I still want to see the movie and my ride doesn't pass for three hours either way
want to kill time with me?
..heart failing
skin sweating
must...find..reality check
A finger poked a side of his rib which gave him recognition that this was the earth and he
did not just fly to space.
SO are you in or out stuttering stan- I mean...what's your name again? My name is Genesis
Jake smiled and stood straight.
Hi
My name is Jake
and sure I would love to hang.